Wild Feathers 1: The Molting Facility
by RainbowSheltie
Summary: Warren is taken to a facility that uses mutants as test subjects for the fabled "cure". Meanwhile, the Professor has located a new mutant (Warren) and sends Logan off to retrieve him. Sounds simple, right? Somehow, Logan thinks, this mission may end up more then just a simple "rescue and babysit" one.


**Title: **Wild Feathers #1: The Molting Facility

**Author:** Harper Hisoka (RainbowSheltie)  
**Warnings: **slash (yaoi) or pre-slash, Top!Logan, Bottom!Warren, light D/s, hurt/comfort, angst, romance, a few swear words

**Pairing:** Logan/Warren Worthington the III **or** Wolverine/Angel  
**Summary:** Warren is taken to a facility that uses mutants as test subjects for the fabled "cure". Meanwhile, the Professor has located a new mutant (Warren) and sends Logan off to retrieve him. Sounds simple, right? Somehow, Logan thinks, this mission may end up more then just a simple "rescue and babysit" one.

**Notes:** This is homosexual (male-male) love, people. No sex, but I'm warning you now. Also, the "D/s" elements in this story are strictly based on a "Dominant personality" and a "submissive personality" - in other words, they may show traits of a Dominant or submissive, but they do not engage in BDSM, scenes, or use toys of any type. But, we all knew Logan had Dominant personality traits to begin with, so.

* * *

**X-men Universe:** Based upon the X-men trilogy (X-men, X-men 2 and X-men 3: Last Stand).

**Logan/Wolverine: **Not so hard to characterize. I know he's (probably) from Canada, and his personality is the same, but he might talk/express himself slightly differently here. His accent is not one I'm familiar with, and trying to copy it would be like the proverbial "nails on a chalk board" - trust me, you don't want me to do it. He is still in character, just... he doesn't say awkward things like, "bub". I can't write that word seriously anyways, sorry. xD

**Warren/Angel:** Honestly. He has, like, 4.5 to 5 minutes of screen time - MOST of which is spent flying to, away or across the camera. Why even put him in the promotional posters (in an x-men uniform no less) in the first place? Ugh. Well, the scenes he _does_ talk in are actually really insightful - you can glean (logically assume) lots of useful personality traits and characterization if you know what you are looking for.

Also, he has bird-traits in my story. If you notice in the movie (and it is kinda subtle) but he lightly moves (twitches) his head when he's talking, and always seems kinda "flighty" when he moves. I'm also assuming he probably has some bird-like anatomy, because a human with wings would probably need hollow bones in order to just lift off the ground (because human bones are heavy). I'm not expert, but that's what I'm going with. So.

**Other: **Set somewhere after the first movie and during the second movie. Scott, Jean and the Professor are all alive, Warren appears sooner than in the movies (obviously...), Stryker is mentioned in passing and I swear I'm trying not to write any Logan/Scott Summers in here because I really, really like that pairing. If you notice Scott is conspicuously absent, that's why. If your really good at reading-between-the-lines, you can probably totally read all my slashy undertones that might or might not appear when Logan and Scott are mentioned in the same sentence. Those two would totally have a kinky D/s relationship. But, this is someone who likes Top!Logan, so...

**Random:** Angel probably molts all over the mansion, right? So who picks up all those feathers? Is there a janitor? What kind of mutant would make the best janitor, anyways?

* * *

**::Chapter 1: Blood-Stained Feathers::**

* * *

It started at Alkali lake, Warren couldn't remember when he had been taken, exactly - just that, somehow, Stryker had found out about his mutation. His father, Warren Worthington the II tried to brush it off, making excuses to the public, he was away, on a trip, going away to school. Anything to hide the fact that he had made a deal with Stryker, a deal to find a cure. Of course, the (some would say corrupt) politician had talked about ethics and morals when dealing with Worthington the II, after all, the father did care about his son and really just wanted the best for him.

Stryker, of course, had no intention of being "nice" to any mutants, save for gaining their cooperation long enough to further his cause. After all, its the big picture that's really important; whoever gets stepped on along the way (more so mutants then other humans) probably deserved what they got to begin with. It's the age old saying, that holds true no matter the era: "Once you consider someone less then human, lower then an animal, its easy enough to justify a whole hell of a lot." This type of justification does require that one considered the subject human in the first place, without that, the ramifications themselves don't require any motivation - and that, is perhaps, one of the worst sort of monsters a man can spawn.

Warren felt like one of those tiny birds on display at a museum or in a collectors house. Not the stuffed ones, but the ones pinned to a dissection table, ready to be processed or studied; not that the difference really mattered to the bird on said table. Semantics, at that point.

The fact remained, however, that none of this changed the current predicament. If it weren't for the current experimental "medication" which just so happened to have an (if he had mentioned it to Stryker, unfortunate) side effect akin to six or seven ibuprofen. Probably the only thing keeping him sane with the huge, rail road spikes driven through his wing bones. And a few smaller ones running along his left arm and (more painfully, his palm). Why, he couldn't say, and how any of this led to a cure was anyone's guess; though the frequent blood tests probably had something to do with it.

If only his father hadn't shipped him off to some facility ("healthcare center for mutants" in Stryker's words) in the middle of nowhere under the pretense of "getting better", if only he hadn't been born a mutant, a freak in the first place, maybe his father...

He felt warm, now; warm and fuzzy, the pain still seemed nothing more then minor pinpricks but Warren felt something calling to him... a comforting darkness that once more promised - if only temporarily - an escape from this hell. After all, he always found that any sleep induced by a good set of painkillers ensured a dream-free sleep. Well, aside from that one experimental drug which had caused massive hallucinations for days afterwards...

* * *

"Cerebro has found another mutant." Professor Xavier announced, while looking straight at Logan, his face outwardly a polite smile, but to Logan, he could see the grin hiding behind that mask. Logan knew he had been chosen for this trip, and worse - he probably wouldn't be able to say no, because chances were the Professor knew something important he didn't. Something like, "In addition, you might find clues to your past, too." Just not in so many words (or any words at all, a glance is really all it takes anymore).

Logan didn't need to be psychic to know how Professor Xavier's mind functioned. Of course, being contrary for the sake of it wasn't strictly necessary but it did feel good to piss certain members of the team off.

Just as Logan was about to ask where, the Professor was already one step ahead of him. "A few miles off of Alkali lake," he began, wheeling past Logan and leaving the Cerebro chamber behind him. Logan followed into step, not entirely sure where, but most likely towards the elevator to the upper floors.

"There's an unmarked building, a laboratory being used for mutant experimentation." The Professor paused, entering the lift headed towards the upper floors (confirming Logan's suspicions). "Publicly," He continued, "Its a simple research and health care facility for those with, as the facility so kindly words it, 'unique genetic diseases and deficiencies'."

Logan turned towards the Professor, a frown on his face. "And you got all this from that?" He question, pointing towards the general direction of Cerebro. Logan caught the grin spreading across Xavier's face and knew he had probably just walked right into it.

"I am a telepath, Logan." The Professor answered. "I can do more then just locate wayward mutants."

Logan could only growl in response. He was probably being silently laughed at (for forgetting something so seemingly trivial). The doors quietly dinged open to an empty corridor and the pair continued down one of the many long hallways.

"I'll have Storm give you the details of the mission," Another pause, as the Professor turned to look Logan in the face. "I know you want to find out about your past, and you will get another chance to explore Alkali lake, I promise you. However, at the moment, you are the only person I can ask to do this. The only one not, as you might say, 'tied down with responsibilities'."

This of course, translated to, _'you are the only mutant not busy with other things, so I'm going to bait you in order to get you to do this mission for me of your own free will.' _Yeah, Logan knew how to read between the lines. Unfortunately, it worked (much to Logan's dismay, as he always hated how the Professor could always get him to do these 'missions' if the guy really put his mind to it).

"Fine. I'll do it, but at least tell me who I'm supposed to be rescuing." Logan asked. This time, he received one of those 'I know something you don't know and I'm not going to tell you' grins and instead shooed him off to see Storm (who apparently had the file of interest).

"Damn him," He swore under his breath, as the Professor shut the door to his classroom behind him.

* * *

"Why do I get stuck with these missions?" Logan grumbled as he (smugly) drove Scott's car out of the Xavier Institute. Normally he would have taken the motorcycle, but seeing as how this was some sort of 'rescue mission' Logan wasn't entirely positive the mutant in question would be in any condition to ride back with him on it. So, car it was (might as well be Scott's car). Despite how much fun he has teasing the guy, Scott really did have the best set of wheels' in the institute (Logan would know, he managed to throughly test each one out without anyone finding out). The fact that all of them just happened to belong to Scott, well, that was just the proverbial cherry on top of a strawberry syrup covered ice cream split.

It was two more hours before Logan reached the edge of the lake, another half hour before he would reach his target destination. He would have loved to have taken the X-Jet, but there had been two problems with that plan. One - the jet was currently already in use, half way around the word in Europe somewhere and Two - he had no idea how to fly the damn thing which, he was beginning to realize, might actually be something he needed to do one of these days. It would cut down on travel time for (seemingly pointless) missions. Not that rescuing a mutant from genetic experimentation was pointless - it was the diplomatic ones (he had also been coerced into for some reason). He didn't know, but the simple concept of "the sooner you arrive, the sooner you can leave" did have its advantages.

* * *

"Warren Worthington the III," Storm began, as they made their way to the garage in the Xavier Institute. "Son of Warren Worthington the II -"

Logan snorted, and Storm looked unimpressed at the interruption before heading further into the garage. She continued, "His father is CEO of Worthington Industries, specifically Worthington Labs and supports the new 'cure for mutants' proposition that's been floating around lately."

He didn't like where this was going, especially when parents were involved; parents who thought their kids needing "fixing". He grunted in a generic response for Storm to continue.

"Not much else is known about how his son ended up in this research facility, but it isn't too hard to guess why." Storm's disapproval was easy to read on her face. Logan could relate. "Apparently someone contacted him with an offer to help his son, promising a cure for his 'condition'. There was a large amount of money exchanged a few weeks ago, which is presumably around the time Warren would have been taken to this facility."

Storm did an about face causing Logan to almost run into her. Her dark eyes pierced Logan's own, a gaze she only used when she was serious. "I don't have to tell you, Logan, how important it is to get this kid out of there. So far there have been no other reports of mutants in the lab, but no one deserves to be experimented upon like a helpless lab animal."

She thrust the folder roughly into Logan's stomach, making him taking the thin folder on reflex. "Find him. Bring him home - at any cost."

Logan nodded. Translation, he thought, '_"Accidentally" destroy the lab in the process.'_

He grinned. Covert missions requiring stealth, not his thing. Mass destruction? Yeah, that Logan could totally get behind. At least this mission wouldn't totally be a 'rescue and babysit' gig after all.

* * *

"Please, stop... I'm begging you..." Warren could feel the hard spike being driven through the fragile hollow of his wing bones. The sickening crunch and cracking sounds as they were hammered in. His screams didn't matter to the lab technicians surrounding him. He would call them doctors, but this isn't what doctors were supposed to do.

"NO!" Another sickening crunch of bones. His wings, they couldn't - no, they had to stop! Maybe he had wanted this once before but however briefly, Warren had had a taste of freedom. On vacation, a few years back, hiking in the wilderness away from the city, the public, his family, his father... It had been the very first time he used his wings to fly.

He had been about seventeen at the time; too afraid growing up to even try and the harness... that harness which kept his wings safely hidden also kept his father happy - at least, what he thought was happiness and acceptance. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't, but... with nothing but the trees and mountains there wouldn't be anything to hold him back. Just once wouldn't hurt, and besides, the curiosity of watching the birds around him all his life, wondering and envious, yet connected all at the same time. Brothers and sisters, it sometimes felt like. Birds were never scared around him; grounded as he was, perhaps some had looked upon him with sorrow or condolence (certain others, however, probably wondered what was wrong with being grounded in the first place).

'_Perhaps this would be where the expression 'life flashing before your eyes' came from,' _Warren thought somewhat ruefully.

When the lab technicians had left (why on Earth had they replaced the old spikes with new ones?) Warren couldn't help but laugh to himself as he felt the familiar stir of darkness surrounding him. If he would only get to fly once in his life, he was glad it was in the almost pristine stretches of wilderness as far as the eye could see. Mountain peaks so high they were snow capped - hell, even a few birds had seemed to join him in mindlessly flying high above the forest understory.

Needles. Drugs. IV bags. Spikes of all sizes. Bald patches on his once pristine white wings, allergic reactions to the various "cures".

"Save me... please."

* * *

Surprisingly, getting in was the easy part. Then again, why have high security measures in a (mostly) "secret" laboratory in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere? Snow, Ice, more snow, perhaps some rain now and then. Wasn't bad security, he supposed. At the very least, a slight deterrent (extremely slight). Suspicious, very suspicious though.

It was easy to get in: grab a lab coat with a badge (steal a coat, hide the body), walk though the hallways like you know where your going (walk around looking for suspiciously locked doors) and most of all, avoid detection (talk, avoid talking to everyone - his social skills were crap to begin with...).

Fortunately for him, the idiots who built the place decided to install maps every few feet - which was dumb, seriously, who does that in "secret" facilities? - and look for the doors or rooms that didn't match the schematics, such as they were. Carefully watching and listening for important sounding people to go somewhere important looking, that totally works just as well. The Professor and Storm weren't able to gather any information on the building other then it was entirely above ground (no secret basements or a hidden complex).

Why they managed to discover that but NOT a full schematic of the building, Logan had no idea. Seemed kind of counterintuitive, but it wasn't like there was much Logan could do about it now. It was a good thing he happened to have some great streaks of what he could only describe as luck, because he had just so happened to overhear a few of the white coats in one of the storage rooms handling a box of long nails or spikes, making a few raunchy bird jokes. Now that was akin to a giant, neon sign flashing "mutant here, just follow us." Logan grinned to himself in response.

* * *

"Who is this guy, anyways, Storm?" Logan asked her, on the way to the garage. "What kind of mutant am I looking at?"

Storm ran through the file, flipping through a few pages before finding the profile. She had it memorized, but it felt good to look at the pictures scattered throughout the page as a way to connect person to fact. Sometimes it was too easy to forget some of these missions were more then just words on a page.

She scrunched her face up in consternation, frowning. "We have very limited information on the full extent of his power, but from what the Professor could tell, its a physical mutation - large, white wings protruding from his back. Other then that, we're not sure, but you don't have any time to waste. I wish we could loan you the jet, but..."

"Don't worry, I'll find another way." Logan smirked, already planning plans for the commandeering of the perfect vehicle.

"He may have bird like attributes, but all we know for sure is he appears otherwise to be human." Storm finished.

"Bird-boy, huh?" Logan grinned. "Don't worry, I'll bring him back safely. Count on it."

* * *

The next few minutes were a blur to Logan. He remembered (stealthily) following the three white coats and somehow managing to actually follow them past the card-entry door (who knew the guy he nicked the lab pass from actually had access to this area of the lab?) Luck. He didn't really believe in it, but he wouldn't say no to it now and then.

Luck, however, is not what he would call anyone who would dare mess with someone as angelic as the mutant experiment they had pinned down like some insect on display. The moment he had realized what they were planning... Well, code name: Wolverine - it wasn't just for show.

Three white lab coats, eight security guards and a few (pathetic) automated defenses later, and Logan realized that at some point, he must have freed the angel, Warren. Bloody spikes littered the huge lab table and the floor. What he saw next made him want to literally fly into another ('_Justifiable,'_ Logan thinks) rampage all over again - it was there, the anger, hatred and ability to definitely cause some major mass destruction to the facility, but one look around and Logan knew he had better things to do. As much as he was loath to admit it, these missions weren't so bad - rescuing mutants who needed his help, their help and a safe place to live; it wasn't so bad.

But right now, all he cared about was the injured, innocent bird lying helpless before him on the floor. Shaking, scared; a little bird who needed his protection. Something he was more then willing to give.

* * *

The first thing Warren noticed was that the constant, thick pain had been replaced by an overwhelming fog, blacking out his vision and involuntarily screaming out and blocking out any rational sense he might of had left.

All that was really important was that he was free, free in the first time since... he couldn't remember. His brain felt slow, disconnected with what was happening around him. It wouldn't work properly, but that was okay; because he was finally free from his prison.

His wings wouldn't work, they hurt to much, but he could still feel them. That was good, then, they were still there. Broken, hurt, perhaps they could heal with time?

The floor left a long, bloody trail behind him. There was a predator in the room that smelled of blood and death - and he was coming right for him. Closer, ever closer. He couldn't help but continually back away, afraid, shivering, shaking.

He was starting to feel cold, but he wasn't safe. Wounded, he felt his wings drag along the smooth tile floor behind him as he crawled toward the far corner of the room. He couldn't even wrap his wings around him for protection, just drag along, creating random swirling patterns in the blood around him.

Flighty, timid, afraid.

Tears ran down his face, his voice was still screaming but he thinks he might be saying something to this stranger as well. He doesn't understand the words, but suddenly the predator has become a simple stranger so he voices the only words he can understand.

"Save me."


End file.
